


Werewolves Aren't Real

by MadamMassacre



Category: NCIS
Genre: Fast Pace, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Other, Stress, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, technically an alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMassacre/pseuds/MadamMassacre
Summary: Special Agent Timothy McGee, you think you know him...you have no idea.





	1. Chapter 1

He loved the sensation of running. It had always been his favorite feeling even when he had first become like what he was now. The wind rushing past his tufted ears and his body feeling every healthy muscle. Unfortunately, he soon sees the edge of forest and the lights emanating from the nearby park. Kneeling down to the ground, he rusts there panting and listening to the sounds of his urban home.

For as long as he can remember this place has been in his sights as a possible place to live. Always thought he sent it to the back of his mind, there was no possible way that Washington D.C. could be a good place for something such as himself to live. Little areas for him to be able to be free from human eyes, finally, after some time he arrived in D.C. and found how glorious it had been.

His recent years had brought him to MIT, where he had gained more knowledge of many things in the world including computers and networking. Then, as time passed on eventually he came to NCIS. There he met Tony, Kate and of course Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

There he became none other than Special Agent Timothy McGee. A NCIS agent that almost seemed harmless at first glance and possibly even the second, heck, he seemed harmless no matter what. Sure, he had a gun and sure he could shoot it, yes he was smart but deep down if he really wanted to he could rip every last one of them to shreds.

Now being what he was there was a lack of chance of them even killing him with a bullet. Though there also was the plain fact that he would never want to hurt them either. Subconsciously he laughed; he had gotten really soft hadn't he.

Slowly he stood on all four legs and turned to head back into the woods for more excitement and possibly something to eat. It had been a while since he had hunted something in this area as it was. Something stopped him though, whistling and humming. Familiar humming and whistling, in fact, there was no doubting who it was.

Tim turned almost silently in the underbrush and looked at his day time colleague. Senior Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo, the man walked along the sidewalk eyeing the darkness in the woods as if sensing Tim's presence in them. Eventually, he gradually sat down on the bench and looked up at the sky. McGee's nose twitched as he sniffed the air and shifted his triangle ears tuning in on the Italian fully now.

What was he doing here at this time of night? It had to be around three or so in the morning, so why would Tony be out? Besides, there was no way Tony was a vampire it made Tim laugh just thinking about the man being one of those blood suckers. Then, as the minutes passed Tony leaned down on his thighs and sighed in anguish.

Everything clicked into the place as Tim realized that in fact, Tony looked like he was going to break into painful sobs at any moment. It scared him actually to see the man so vulnerable. The Italian had come in the silence, to think out whatever was bothering him so badly.

"Oh, why does everything have to be so difficult?" Tony practically sobbed.

Without thinking Tim stood up onto his legs crunching leaves and branches under his paws. The reaction was immediate. The Italian shot up from his previous position and onto his feet. Timothy froze, "Hey, who's there?" Tony laughed almost nervously, "That isn't funny whatever you're trying?"

He was frozen stiff at this moment, debating between running back to his home or staying silent in the darkness. Unfortunately, Tony made the choice for him; he reached for his gun taking it out of its holster. He pointed it directly at McGee without even knowing it, then after he came closer to the darkness. Tim bolted into the deep shelter of the woods. He could hear Tony begin to give chase but immediately stopped, apparently deciding that it was, in fact, an animal.

For this he was grateful. No human he had ever encountered took nicely or calmly to seeing a Lycanthrope, whether it is, Medieval enthusiast or not. McGee gazed up upon the moon, his handler, it never had been true that they could only transform on a full moon.

They could transform into a wolf on any account as long as the moon was present it day or night. He wasn't quite sure why the moon had to be present, other than the fact that it simply compelled a wilder side of any being.

McGee glanced over at the sound of running water and peered at his form. He was reminded why certain she-wolves would seek him out. In his human form he wasn't terribly impressive, but in his canine form, he was ultimately stunning.

His fur was a deep and shining black color with light patches of white and gold in random areas. His body was made for hunting, battle, stealth and his ability to marathon across long distances, a specimen of many things people pictured as something akin to a werewolf. Combine that with his wit and he felt complete.

McGee choked back a howl as his animalistic instincts took over in the chase. This was what he was, Timothy McGee the terror of the night.

…

McGee groaned and rolled onto his side to death stare at the beeping alarm before him. 5:00 A.M. it mocked, still screaming at him to get ready for work. Not to self, do not go on an outing until four in the morning on a work night. Tim yawned and did his normal routine before getting into his car and driving to none other than NCIS Headquarters.

When Tim arrived, he was shown with something of the normal sight except Tony was at his desk half awake. McGee stopped in his tracks and looked at the Italian for a moment. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Fine McGee, just dandy, go run along"

There was no way DiNozzo was near fine, especially when he actually got called by his real last name. There was also the faint scent of alcohol on his suit along with…fear and possibly sadness? "You sure Tony"

DiNozzo lifted his head and glared at McGee, "Just dandy" McGee stiffened slightly at the edge of his partner's voice.

McGee sat down at his desk and logged onto his computer looking through whatever he could find to keep himself distracted. Every so often he would glance over at Tony to make sure he was still awake. Eventually, Ziva came in and asked the same questions as Tim only to get the same answers.

The Hebrew woman sat at her desk, "Neither of you two seem as though you had a glorious sleep last night."

Tony perked up at this and looked over at McGee, "Did the McGeek pick up a girl last night?"

"No"

"No, wait, let me guess two girls."

"Nothing to do with girls Tony, I walked Jethro all night." It wasn't a complete lie, to be honest, earlier in the night he had taken Jethro out for a run.

"McGee, why walk your dog all night?"

"…I didn't feel tired." Ziva opened her mouth to ask another question only a second before Gibbs walked past her Tony and McGee. "We've got a dead marine let's go."

Each grabbed their respected back packs and left in record time. Perhaps they would figure it out for themselves one of these days.

…

The crime scene was rather interesting. For once it wasn't too far from headquarters being that it was in D.C. in fact, McGee had a recollection of being here last night. Tony had even been here last night and he, in fact, seemed spooked.

Tony's eyes were wide when he saw the state of the body. Tim's weren't as wide; he had seen this thing far too many times.

The body was mauled and gnawed on for most of the night that was obvious. The reason that it surprised him was that it was left out in the open. The skin was torn open and eaten along with muscle, heart, diaphragm, fat, and even some of the bones had been crunched in two allowing the said animal to lick out the marrow. The stench was, in fact, foul, the intestines hanging out along with whatever organs the creature didn't eat that had started to decay overnight.

McGee didn't even have to look twice to recognize the teeth marks on the bones though. Too large to be anything but something akin to a werewolf, not to mention the scent they had left behind. Tim had never been one to mingle with other canines of his species they loved to travel in packs most of the time but had subjected themselves to a somewhat crude way of life.

Tony knelt down to the ground and looked around for anything that may have been left behind by their killer. "Hey boss"

"Yeah DiNozzo"

"How do they know it's a marine?"

Gibbs looked over the body and picked up a plastic evidence bag containing a driver's license. "Answer your question?"

Tony stared at the ID for a moment before answering, "Yeah boss"

"Good"

That man simply was too…too…McGee couldn't even put a word to it. But he knew, oh, he knew that there was something off about Jethro Gibbs, he could smell it.

…

Once they had finished bagging and tagging they were heading back to headquarters for forensics and 'case working'. McGee was actually sitting in the back with most of the evidence and pondering on the scent he had picked up. Of course, he probably should have picked up the act of 'oh god that is terrible' instead of 'oh…it's a shredded body' because DiNozzo kept glancing back at him. "Hey, McQueesy," Tim turned his attention to the senior agent.

"Wasn't that body disgusting?" The tone Tony took seemed to be more mocking than anything.

Tim, unfortunately, had to play along, because for one he had to at least act somewhat human. "Tony, don't remind me of it."

Jethro eyed him in the mirror, quickly before returning his focus to the road. McGee returned to his pondering as he watched the highway pass by. Of course, since Tony had reminded him of said body, he remembered one of two things. One thing is that he suddenly had the urge to go back and eat the rest of it and the second being that it was going to be in the building with him. This was going to be a long case.

It wasn't like he had never been around the dead bodies and not to have the wanting to eat them. It was just that was more of it was easier to ignore when they were…colder and had flesh on them. Human flesh was a texture he didn't like chewing much less in his mouth.

McGee took a silent sniff and suddenly smelled something quite off. For one it was something similar to a wolf's scent and for two it wasn't his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not long after.

McGee froze in place as the scent filled his senses. The same scent he had picked up at the crime scene. Tim's eyes darted around for a moment and he realized that they were driving down a somewhat secluding area. The perfect time for someone or actually, something to strike, no one would notice until long after.

As soon as it was there it was gone. His heart rate calmed quickly and pupils becoming smaller from their panicked state. Gibbs again eyed him from the front, something akin to concern glinting in his eyes. Tony stared out the window, blatantly ignoring or simply ignorant to what could have transpired.  
…  
Abby rushed around like a fly, no…flies don't move that fast. McGee watched the speedy female with interest. When it comes to techy stuff, yeah, he gets it just fine, when it comes to...whatever the hell she was babbling on about…he was deaf.

The dark haired female intrigued him, always excepting of the supernatural more than the others. Yet, she was something close to a scientist which baffled him greatly.  
Most weren't very open to the idea of vampires and werewolves as she was. Although he had noticed that the theory was in the 'Big Bang Theory' although, more partial to superheroes and similar icons. Humans had evolved that was for certain.

The bubbly female snapped her fingers in front of his face. McGee jumped, startled from his thoughts, "Wake up."  
He blinked a multitude of times before actually focusing on what she was saying. "So this guy was a clean freak, more than likely he had OCD and loved to keep things tidy. His clothes have no other blood on them beside his own and some dog hairs that probably came from his dog."

Dog, they are not dog hairs, similar but not dog hairs. "Although the only thing the guy had on him was a wallet and some cash, credit cards, you know the usual." She made a hand gesture and returned to the evidence.

"Anything else, Abbs?" Abby looked up, the same the look he had fallen for too. He found Abby as a strange attraction considering the fact that she was a human despite his thoughts otherwise the first few times he had met her. It was an instinctual attraction, like a bee to a flower but something more feral…something dangerous.

"Not really, I told you all there is to know McGee." Are you certain?  
…  
He ripped through the underbrush, eyes wild and adrenaline rushing. God, he loved this feeling, it was glorious. Heart pounding against his chest, he tore after the unwilling prey, it was only a rabbit, but it was still fun.

The rabbit turned a sharp corner and bounded to its den, Tim nearly drifted into the outside of the forest before fully turning. He stopped outside the animal's den and panted, hot breath showing in the cool autumn night. His eyes glinted as he lowered down to the rabbit's den beneath the concrete of a sidewalk. Smart rabbit, even if he did dig, the tunnel could be too long for him to reach the animal, more than likely it had an escape route in case of such an action.

His breathing steadily returned to normal as he looked out into the dimly lit park. The same park he had been at only yesterday night, the one Tony was at, the one the body had shown up in. His ear twitched at the sight of the yellow tape and stated that it was a crime scene.

McGee took a whiff of the night air and picked up the familiar scent of the other's scent. Tonight he should work, he didn't know how to explain it if he found something, but he imagined it could be pulled off, he had done it before.

Looking around for cameras he edged his way to the scene. Ears pricked and high on alert in case of human interference, lowering his head closer to the ground he took in the other's scent. A male, two males and a female…in heat…although he noticed there was the scent of a second female among them, her scent wasn't very strong but he could tell she was pregnant.

A pack or the start of a pack, it was hard to tell if there were any other members or not. But there was a scent trail, a strong one. He edged his way across the trimmed grass and back into the forest that surrounded. They had cut through his territory and he hadn't even noticed.  
He mentally berated himself for not checking the borders. He edged his way along the scent trail, checking for any signs of territorial markers or boundaries. Eventually, he had found himself outside his own territory and into another's.

The scent was almost overpowering, these wolves certainly were of the old ways. Many didn't mark their territory this heavily if at all considering the sparseness of their kind. If he crossed this boundary more than likely he would be considered trespassing and more than likely be attacked on sight if not killed.

That is if they were on their territory tonight, more than likely they would be. Timothy looked to the sky and noted that the moon wasn't terribly high yet, the sun not even gracing the sky above and beyond. He would have plenty of time to explore and find tonight. Mentally he sighed, ears perking and tail moved higher if it meant helping out on the murder case then so be it.

He stalked on, his alertness was on high and every sound, scent and movement was noted. Timothy wrinkled his nose at the strongest scents of the two males, one young and one older, the female in heat was also more pungent as he got closer to the center of the territory. They must have placed their den close to the center, not very smart by his standards.

McGee paused, listening for a moment as he heard a rustle not too far from his location. The scent of the pregnant female engulfed his nostrils, was she here? A snarl met his ears as a second scent followed, the younger male was here, and he knew it.

A wolf-like body made itself visible, a messy grey mix with dull fur and dark brown eyes. The male snarled a warning, McGee was more than willing to step back and lower his ears, but there was the fact that there was only one currently and not much of one.

The younger male was smaller and less powerful than himself, even if he was in his own territory Tim believed he could still take the younger easily. He let off a low whine and lowered himself slightly to the other's level. The grey mix only growled harder, Tim's eyes narrowed as he huffed in the male's face. Unfazed the other simply snapped his jaws threateningly.

He didn't react accordingly apparently since the other suddenly launched at him. Teeth meeting his side flank and ripping a small amount of skin, Tim snarled and tore the other off, throwing him into the brush. The grey male stood immediately, going for McGee's legs, jumping and tackling the other underneath him Tim secured the other quickly.

The grey mix snarled, drool oozing down his mouth, he snapped upwards at McGee before having his head shoved down into the dirt. Tim glanced at his open wound before looking back at his capture. That was going to sting in the morning. A low growl met his ears as he suddenly noticed a pair of yellow eyes glaring at him, the older male.  
Large and imposing, muscles bulking and fur shiny as stars, he was the threat, not the younger male. The beast stepped out into the dim moonlight, silver fur glinting, he reeled back his lips to show his teeth and his displeasure.

Reeking of blood and his dominant scent, the beast leaped from the ground and tackled McGee under his bulk.  
Snarling in his ear, McGee could see the scar covering his left eye, the yellow orbs full of malice his face set into a smile. Tim felt the beast grab his soft under flank he growled back and bit into the other's neck with such force it broke the skin. The larger male growled and tossed him. Tim landed with ease and faced his enemy, the beast howled and charged.

...TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Chapter 3

McGee groaned as he heard the alarm begin to scream its head off. There was no way it was five already… didn't he just get back? Tim rolled over, tangling himself further in his bed sheets; sure enough, it was ten after five and his entire body felt sore as all hell. Sitting up in his bed and rubbing his hair around to suit him he rolled out of bed.

Jethro gave a long yawn as he heard McGee shuffling, snapping his jaws shut and licking his maw. The dog stretched and turned around in a couple circles before curling back up on his dog bed, he decided that he liked it better than greeting McGee this morning. After all, he smelled like he'd been in a fight recently. Sweat, blood, anger, and aggression were basically all he could pick up on this early morning. Well, besides of course his sweet scent and McGee's and that candle thing that was supposed to get people to calm down. Although it really never seemed to work. And with that, he drifted off back to sleep.

Tim rolled his shoulders, wincing at the sharp jolt that followed it. The old dog had really done a number on him. His back was practically torn to shreds. Thank god it was only the outer skin and it hadn't gone any deeper; if the beast had bitten any harder he'd probably have bled out before he could have gotten back. Besides, he was almost certain the only reason he had gotten back at all was because of that horrendous looking thing. They'd underestimated him as a threat along with his endurance or rather fleabag did.

McGee leaned on the doorway; blatantly ignoring Jethro's tossing and turning as he attempted to go back to sleep. Once the old dog had almost skinned him and was ready for another attack his companion had an egotistical explosion. Basically, the skin bag had made the Alpha, as he was quite sure of anyhow, back down and allow him to fight Tim. That had backfired on him, big time. His Alpha knew it would too.

The moment the beast backed down, he had looked at McGee with… something. He looked at him in a moment of complete indifference, as if he hadn't just violated a territorial marker, attacked a member of his supposed pack, possibly under the intention to kill and even had the guts to attack him, The Alpha. He just didn't seem to care, he let Tim go, it wasn't his own will that got him out, and it was the old dog.

He sighed, stretching his arms out and rubbing his neck where the bite mark had been left. He had no idea how in hell's name he was going to cover that up. He could always say that Jethro bit him, now, why would be the question.

Letting his hand fall back to his side McGee listened to the dog roll off his bed and wander into the room. "Jou should leave ze' radio on today, ja?" Jethro's German accent rang out.

He was never going to get used to that, not ever. "Neine," he mocked.

"Oh~, jou are so cold harted!" The dog simply trekked into the other room and lapped up a mouthful of water before returning. Sitting directly in front of McGee with big brown eyes staring directly into his soul.

"And vhat harm would zat really do to jou? It iz just a little songz." The dog almost pleaded, almost.

"And last time you had it blared out to the max, I'm not doing it." Tim walked around the sitting canine and made his way to the coffee maker.

"Neine? But I get so~ bored here all by my lonesome self. Zhere is none to talk to or play wif, and jou won't get another dog. So," Jethro got down onto his haunches and rolled over onto his back, looking at McGee upside down. "I zhink jou should leave ze radio on for de day."

Tim gave his dog a sideways glance. There's a simple explanation for why they can understand one another. They both speak the same, almost the same language. All canines tend to have a basic language they understand, although there are sub bases. Small dogs tend to have a more differentiated language than bigger dogs. And foreign dogs tend to have an even more different language than that. It would be extremely complicated to explain, but that was the basics.

Jethro had apparently grown up around a very specific dialect of, as he called it, 'Werewolf Tongue', one that is very close to McGee's own. Which is also how he had gotten bitten in the first place, yes it did have something to do with Jethro's 'high'. But it also had to do with McGee mumbling something in this said dialect. As in Jethro's mind, as he had explained much later. He apparently came to the conclusion that his partner had been murdered by a werewolf and was going to kill said werewolf.

All McGee was truly certain of was the fact that the German Shephard had actually believed that he could kill him. The second time was again something very similar except then there was the fact that Jethro had been shot and was in between shock and a being completely furious. During Abbey's little fret over Jethro though, that was mostly an exchange of mockery between the two. A lot of, 'Is she your girlfriend,' 'she smells nice' and 'listen to this woman.' Mostly Jethro's rainbow like jibes.

Over the while that Tim has had Jethro as a friend, because if he says pet, he might just throw up a bit in his mouth. He's been a pretty good companion. Abbey has visited the dog off and on, asking mostly about how he's doing and questions about the dog's well-being. Before Abbey visits, of course, they have a nice long talk about personal boundaries, jibes, marking territory and of course, mockery.

McGee looks at the clock again, noting that the coffee's done and that he should really get going. "If I leave the radio on do you swear that you won't blare it through the roof?"

Jethro rolls over onto his stomach, "Ja, I swear on my cute little pawz!"

"Oh ha ha, you're hilarious." Reaching over and switching the radio on, McGee gathered up his stuff for the day and got dressed in record time before running out the door.

Meanwhile back at his place, Jethro was standing on the counter turning the volume up just a smidge, just because the sound didn't sound quite full yet.

…

McGee was still staring at the same thing he had been for about two hours. Lieutenant Maurice Hamilton Larson, United State Marine Core. That's it, that's all they had on him, they had rank, they had a cause of death, they had which group he was in and that was it. He had no living family, no friends and no house. It was almost like the guy didn't exist, but he did, they found his corpse to prove it, or what was left of it.

There was nothing else about him, though, he didn't have any social media accounts, he didn't have email, and he had a flip phone to contact people. Mostly restaurants and the corps in his contact list and recent history but nothing else. Nobody else, it was so frustrating!

There was no way this guy could have even lived in this day-in-age without at least some of those things. McGee had even gone through profiles just to find a picture that matched his face, nothing! Humans ugh!

Tim leaned back in his chair covering his eyes for a moment or two. He had no idea what he was going to do. The only lead he really had was that pack and he couldn't tell the boss about that, he'd be sent to the nearest nut house. Or maybe Gibbs would be easy on him and he'd just get a slap on the back of the head. His way of probably knocking everything back into place.

At least the boss wasn't here at the moment. Right now it was only really him down in their area of the bullpen. The others had gone back to the crime scene to look for any more evidence. They probably wouldn't find much unless they brought some sniffers along. Then they might get a nice little panic attack out from some dogs. Last he checked not many enjoyed the scent of that kind of 'dog'.

Then, of course, there was the fact that Abby had identified the saliva left all over the poor guy's insides. Canis lupus, McGee wasn't if the face Abby had put on was happy or sad. Because for one, there are wolves in a small park in Washington and two that are wolves in a park in Washington. It's kind of good but kind of bad.

There's the fact that now they know for sure the ecosystem is getting much better. Then there's the fact that they're branching out so far as a suburban area of Washington D.C. This could result in a nice little relocation or hunt for said 'wolves'. But the wolves don't exist, the Werewolves do. So they won't find any of this pack they're looking for.

He could go on and on about how complex this situation really is. Where's the use in that, though?

Sighing and practically beaten, Tim pulls up the picture of Maurice again. The guy looks pretty normal, to begin with, then there's something just so familiar about him that he just can't really place it. The brown, almost spiked hair, blue eyes, oval faced bright, white teethed and lightly aged and tanned face. Wait… McGee stares at the picture for what feels like a century before pulling up a very similar looking picture. Because there is no way. There's no possible way that these two look alike.

Tim rubs his face again almost taking bits of skin off with his dull finger nails. His once dull finger nails, because now they seem to be a bit longer. Their DNA, their looks and… there is no possible way…

It's a coincidence, but it can't be, it really can't. Because Tony almost looks exactly like Maurice, and Maurice looks like Tony…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter 4

He's run the program fifty-seven times; he's working on fifty-eight. All the facial marks match perfectly. The bridge of his nose, the eye socket circumference, the only part that's different is the eye color and that could be inaccurate since there's such a thing as colored contacts. What is it with people and looking like Tony!? Well, at the very least this time… they can find Tony and… dear god, he knows there are things out there that can mimic anyone's appearance… more likely it's just a guy who looks a lot like Tony. It's not like they've never had a case where something supernatural had popped up but that part of the world tends to hide better than anything. Simply because that part of the world has had over hundreds of thousands of years of practice in 'hiding'. Along with the fact that there are these things called 'hunters', but that's a whole other story altogether.

Normally humans aren't necessarily in these affairs… he's going off subject. If the guy was a shape-shifter of some kind wouldn't the DNA be different? He'd guess, McGee lets a sigh escape him. The program's confirmed the identity again, officially he's run it fifty-eight times… and it still says this is Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo. This isn't Maurice, it could be fake but there wouldn't be much of a point to faking a picture for an ID. The information is usually faked and then insert your own picture here. So what would the point be of them both being as fake as clay ducks?

This isn't making any sense; at this point, the only thing that's going to result in this investigation is a cold case. Unless… minimizing the program he grabs his phone and heads to the morgue. If he's right about this, this won't be much of a case anymore.

…

When Ducky and Palmer leave the morgue McGee sets off the blank hall loop along with the dark morgue one and walks in. It's easy to spot the mauled, mutilated thing that was once a person among the other two. Tim scrunches up his nose as the almost stagnant air fills his nostrils. The hinted scents almost assaulting him more than any human or beast ever has. He's never liked the smell in here, it smells of spoiled flesh and cleaning supplies, he's never found either to be a nice, flattering smell. Together is just down-right disgusting.

He chokes a gag easy enough as he approaches the long dead thing. The lacking scent of blood keeps the flesh unappealing to his more animal side. Along with the fact that he's never really had a taste for human flesh even if they do taste a bit like pork rather than an ape. The thought crosses his mind that he probably should've had lunch before he came here. McGee straightens himself up at the thought. He's reminded why exactly he came down here, to begin with.

Maurice could be a werewolf, possibly a daylight one. Or whatever they tend to call werewolves that don't change back to humans after daybreak, can't consciously change back and when they do it's worse than a train wreck. The guy could easily be mistaken as a druggie when wondering the streets without much left of his clothes. It's possible when he left the Maurine corps he wasn't entirely aware of it, especially since he had the sinking suspicion that if he is one of few that tend not to change back, he was indeed bitten. Naturally born ones tend not to have any of these issues. The whole identity thing could easily be his realization moment, got himself a fake ID and ran from anything he'd ever known. It's even possible he never was a Maurine, to begin with, it could of easily just been part of his cover. Well, whatever he could get as a cover. His moments as a human were short and sparse; he wouldn't have much time to get a very complex identity.

That still didn't explain why he looked exactly like Tony but it may be a start. But then, there's no sure way to tell whether or not he was a werewolf, none of the DNA that they contain when they're wolves is kept when they appear human. If so, it would have to be very little and unrecognizable, the only real way would be if those gnaw marks are what he thinks they are. Originally, when they're kind had no need to change into humans, when one of their pack died the flesh would be torn away from the bone, the supposed 'source' of their transformational powers. These bones were then inscribed with the dead's story, how they came to be, their deeds and powers, their place in the pack and usually their lineage. Rarely were their names ever inscribed.

Of course, this ritual hadn't been used in hundreds and possibly thousands of years since mankind spread. Curious but he couldn't ponder too long on that now. He'd need to translate what the bones said and perhaps he could get somewhere as to who 'Maurice' actually was. Explaining where he got the information could be complicated but he'd figure something out along the way. He'd done it before; hopefully, this wouldn't involve hacking the Pentagon again and creating a person who never existed. Tedious and probably more work than he should put into his job, but he still did it.

Taking out his phone and snapping a couple close-up pictures since the ones they'd taken at the scene, as he was well aware, were too far away to read the inscriptions correctly. He just hoped the ones he got now were high enough quality to read them. The main writing should be on the skull, the story about transition should be on the ribs and everything else on the upper arms and thigh bones. Carefully rotating the bone he took a few more pictures careful to steady his hand. The snapped in half ones could be a problem but hopefully not too bad of one, the break didn't seem to have many missing pieces, they couldn't be missing but a few words. Moving to the skull he noted the messiness of the scripture work. The notches weren't very deep or very precise, done by a wolf that wasn't experienced in the writing or with the technique.

But as he moved to the ribs the scriptures were almost perfect. Different wolves had done them, perhaps the pack he'd met in the forest? The older wolf looked around the age to maybe know the technique but there wasn't a real way of knowing. Managing to get the majority of the marks McGee turned off the lights and quickly walked out, turning off the security loop.

Now the great debate about calling himself sick and going home to decipher this or wait until the work day's over. No one else was at the bullpen currently so there wouldn't be many questions and it would take a while to translate the inscriptions. Well, that depended on the dialect and language they were written in. If he was lucky it'd be an easy one, he'd rather not have to go track down a werewolf that actually knew the language. Tracking them down would be complicated enough, getting them to do anything for him, on the other hand, would be even more difficult.

God if this wasn't something he could translate this was going to be a pain in the ass.

…

He'd gone the whole workday without anyone else at the bullpen besides himself and other cubicles that surrounded them. But he tended not to count them that much anyway. For Special Agents, they didn't seem to be very observant of their workspace. Perhaps it was because they thought they didn't need to be? He didn't know. The team had been out scouting the woods beyond the perfectly mowed park looking for any sign of a murder weapon or maybe some clue as to where their killer went. They'd come up with nothing long after sundown and had gone home after McGee had left the office.

McGee blinked and looked back at the pictures he'd taken that were now displayed on the computer screen in from of him. Blown up and edited to where he could see the inscriptions clear as day. He'd gone through about three dialects trying to decipher what they might say. Each had made no sense and he moved on. His fear might actually come true. He was halfway through the list of six that could be translated with the use of a book. Hopefully, he was just having a stroke of bad luck.

If not, well, it was safe to say this case might just end up being cold or possibly more work than he was cut out for. Tim glances at the clock on the screen, he got home at around six and it is twelve now. Stretching out, he puts his hands on his head and sighs. He's so tired.

He can't ignore this dilemma, though, no matter how hard he tries. It's going to bug him for the rest of the night if he tries to go to bed. But in the end, if he's too tired he's not going to be able to decipher the markings. Much less work with a clear head in the morning. Stretching again Tim minimizes his work and puts the computer on hibernate, he'll continue tomorrow. For now, he'll just have to try and get some sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

He's awoken by the sharp ringing in his ears and a dull ache forming in his head.

For a moment McGee is completely unaware of why his ears are ringing and why his head hurts so much until he does. It takes him a moment to fully assess why and more precisely remember how. But it doesn't take too long.

After that slight moment of complete and utter confusion, he begins to focus more on the sticky substance oozing out of his ear. Then he addresses the cruel metal binding his wrists together until finally, he tries to decide if Tony's head wound has caused a concussion or not. But as a large figure waltzes in with a large machete in hand he decides that Tony's head wound is probably the least of their worries.

\- 5:00 a.m. Earlier That Morning -

He hasn't slept. In fact he'd actually forgotten to sleep. Not after finding the correct dialect and not after translating over half of the entire skeleton. He nearly fell asleep though, Tim would admit that, but he hadn't. Not after two cups of coffee and some good ole' motivation and perseverance. Then, he was back at it.

Maurice's story or actually, in this he was referred to as 'Owleyes' obviously a name given to him by the pack. But perhaps he could have used it as some sort of nickname somewhere. Then, that was unlikely. Beside the point… his story was rather, boring almost. In fact, he seemed to be the most normal person you could ever meet. In a sense, of course, there was one thing that had come from the bones though. That Maurice was unable to change back accordingly. A true werewolf… and hopefully, one of the last.

Curiously, it also described how Maurice came to be a werewolf. Apparently flea bag had gone out and starting looking for people to bite and change or actually he assumed it was flea bag. He had a hard time believing that their Alpha had made this mistake. At least of the prospect that it doesn't always work correctly, nor does it ensure a new pack member. None the less their Alpha called 'Steeljaw' had taken Owleyes in. Regardless of this inevitable flaw of their new member, he was still a vital part of their survival apparently.

Maurice apparently had a quick understanding of how to hunt and especially how to hide. Which explains why they were so well hidden, although it described little of where they were. Although… it did say that when Maurice managed to change back he went out and tended to stay a small motel. His escape from everything, his 'haven', probably was what little he had left of his normal life…

Unfortunately, his life story didn't depict or tell what the place was called but it did give him a small description. 'A small motel far from home with mermaid mural coating it's exterior.' That shouldn't be hard to find.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. McGee dared to glance at the computer's clock. Reading nearly six thirty in the morning. Great, absolutely great… he'd have to leave for work soon. Giving him barely enough time to try and find the said motel… but then again, he'd have time to do that at work wouldn't he? Cracking his fingers Tim mulled it over. Yeah, he probably would… now if the hotel had no record of Maurice staying there, on the other hand, he might have to set aside some time to fabricate records of the werewolf staying there.

Which in a sense wouldn't be too hard either. So, he supposed he could either get maybe half an hour of sleep or he could maybe go for a walk. Walking sounded like it would wake him up more, so giving a glance into the bedroom where Jethro was sleeping, mentally decided it would make more sense. Quickly grabbing his coat and gear Mcgee managed to get out of the house without waking up the sleeping shepherd. He didn't want to hear his whining about the radio or his lack of entertainment during the day and at night. Really the poor dog needed to be living somewhere other than his apartment. Damn thing was so bored.

…

Late, so late, really bad late. Tim had walked longer than he'd anticipated. He'd been out there for nearly an hour and a half. Dammit, he was so stupid for not keeping track of the time. God, if he showed up and Tony asked if he was too busy keeping someone else warm he was going to… probably ignore him. But still… it was totally immature of him.

As he pulled up into the parking lot he noted that nearly all of the vehicles that were supposed to be there were. He also noted that there were a few extras as well. Probably visitors or bombers… definitely visitors. Pulling into his parking spot, making a rapid dash for his back pack and sprinting down to the building's elevator he managed to keep himself a black and blue blur going down the halls. Or at least he hoped he was.

If McGee knew anything was how to be decently discreet when you're late to something. Even if he got caught and he tended to completely blow it… keep in mind decently discreet. Now if he was in his Lycan form he'd be so discreet and invisible they probably wouldn't have even noticed he'd gotten there. But then, he couldn't really do that now, could he? Well, actually maybe he could, then again that risk was too great and it'd be an abuse of power probably. Yeah, something like that.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator gave a ding and he was on his floor. The ever busy bullpen. Tim walked out with long strides and peaked around to his office area. No one seemed to be there, lucky for him, or he hoped lucky for him.

Taking one last glance around, McGee dropped his back on the inside of his desk and booted up his computer. Keeping his eyes peeled for Gibbs or Tony. Neither of which he saw anywhere. After switching to writing an email saying that he was here and sending it to the offices McGee checked around again. Still nothing. Had they gone out without him? It would seem so, then again… there was no way to confirm that. Other than maybe a feeling, one he didn't have.

Either way, this gave him time to look for that motel. Situating himself at his desk finally, McGee brought up motels in the nearby area. Flipping through photos until he finally found the one he was looking for. Listed under a 'no vacancies' making it slightly harder than he would have hoped, but none the less he'd found it. Now for… his thoughts were interrupted as soon as he saw Gibbs coming out of the elevator and Tony following closely behind. Boss looked pissed.

Tim prayed to whatever higher being that was listening that it wasn't because he was late. But it would seem that none were listening because the moment the man met eye contact, McGee felt a target lock. Gibbs managed not to stomp up to his desk but he was near doing so as he loomed over McGee like some sort of hawk. "Where were you this morning?"

The agitation was clear but his voice remained low, thank the heavens. Although it was at this moment that McGee realized he hadn't even thought of a reason why he hadn't been here, besides of course the truth… and he supposed there was no hiding the truth from Gibbs. "I uh… lost track of time boss, won't happen again… boss." Tim felt his poor wording sink in as the gray haired man stared at him. One of his eyes twitching at the slightest.

As those blue eyes stared at McGee much longer than they should have Gibbs spoke again. "Is there something you're not telling us, McGee?" Agitation was replaced with mere annoyance, it seemed preferable.

"No, boss." Was all he could think to respond.

Gibbs looked away and lightly shook his head. Tim could hear Tony's low snickers from behind his computer. He waited for the instant response from Jethro but there was none, he apparently had chosen to ignore it. McGee let it go. Either way, he needed to get to that motel and check to see if the owner had seen Maurice… or actually just let the owner look at Tony and ask if he'd seen a man that looked like him.

That would probably work too. Tim suppressed a snort at the thought.

Finally, he managed to come up with the right words. "Uh, boss, I have a lead on where the Lieutenant might have been staying."

McGee looked over his computer for a response, Gibbs was staring at him and he knew what was coming next. "And?"

"It's called the 'Enchanted Stay Motel'," pulling the pictures of the place up on the screen and the multitude of records showing his stays.

"DiNozzo, you and McGee go check this place out, see if there was anything out of the ordinary there."

Tony didn't question it, "You got it, boss. Come on Mc-Tardy-Gee."

All that went through Tim's head as he was grabbing his pack was how bad that tease had been.

…

It didn't take long to get there. That was probably the simplest part. The hardest part it would seem was getting this guy to talk.

The man was probably in his mid-forties, maybe five seven with a medium build, completely bald and wore the most out of date glasses he'd seen in a long time. With lenses so thick they were digging into his cheeks. None of that really bothered McGee very much though, what bothered him was that he smelled of rotten eggs and copper. Disgusting combination.

But apparently, he was the only one to smell it considering that Tony hadn't made a single quip about it beneath his breath. Sometimes he found it little unfortunate, and just unfair, that he had to endure this torture alone. None the less this guy was hard to crack.

"Come on, you had to have seen this guy," Tony bugged as he basically shoved the photo in his face. "He's stayed here over a million times there's no way you didn't see his face."

The man snarled, "I ain't seen that fucker, I ain't even heard his name before. Maurice, what kinda dumb name is that anyway!"

"Apparently the same name he signed in with." Dinozzo was getting agitated. McGee could nearly hear his molars being grit to the gum and dare he say, he could almost feel the man's urge to take out his weapon.

Giving a an extremely quiet sigh Tim proceeded with caution. "Look he had an alias, uh… maybe Owl, Owleyes?"

That's when Tim realized he'd made a mistake. The man's eyes grew wide as he gave a nervous laugh. McGee was then very aware that Tony was giving him a bit of a curious sideways glance. That was also when he realized he'd just said Owleyes in Were tongue. Albeit in a human format but he would imagine it would have sounded very strange. But that was not the reason this man was backing up in the back room while Tony was distracted. Then, everything clicked into place. The mermaid outside… the exact reason why Maurice had stayed here so much. He wasn't just looking at a rundown little motel. He was looking at a haven.

Tim's eyes darted to the balded man that was once not a foot from him and realized that he was no longer that modest, aged human. His pupils had changed to mere vertical slits, thick brown and black spotted fur grew from his arms and the edges of his face. A once nearly flat face was now protruding out and forming into a mussel, four needle like teeth showing just behind the mouth. The creature let out a fearsome screech. McGee didn't have any time to even look at Tony's probably completely astounded expression before he heard heavy footsteps coming at him and the Italian.

A heavily built man ran at Dinozzo with what appeared to be a telephone and knocked him over the head with it. Tony didn't even have enough time to react before he was down. Tim had enough of a moment to realize he was next. McGee reached for his gun but not before being tackled by what he would assume was a Were Cat. The thing sinking it's partially formed claws into his shoulders. Tim winced as he tried to reach for his gun, the bear of a man reached down a picked the thing up. Looking at it for a moment before crushing it with his hands.

McGee felt the feline shift on him again baring its teeth and with a wispy, hissy like voice utter a question about how he knew Owleyes. Apparently disregarding the thought that he'd spoken in were tongue, but then again, perhaps this cat didn't know it?

If so, then he wouldn't be expecting this. Tim let his upper body shift and change until his face was that of a wolf's and his arms much stronger than they had been before. Taking hold of the were's arms he managed to throw the thing into the wall and was about to grab Tony and leave before he was shoved into the desk by the bear-like-man. Who in turn, had also changed into his hideous true form.

Skin and flesh made of rock and a face only a mother could love. A gargoyle, so far from his post and in a human form none the less? No matter. McGee gave a shove and only managed to stun the beast before he lunged again this time going for Tim's head. He missed maybe by a few inches. McGee gave a snarl and kicked at the stone creature's legs but quickly began to realize that it was useless. The beast stayed steadfast. He tried to run but the gargoyle got a hold of his legs and threw him back down. Effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. Panting, Tim tries to get back up but the gargoyle would have none of that. Stomping a leg onto his back, McGee feels a rib or two pop and he silently hopes they don't crack.

But quickly, he realized either way that he wasn't going to be getting up. That's when he saw him. A tall man standing right in front of him with long silver hair framing his face, eyes darker than the blackest night, dark gray stubble adding to his gruffness and finally a long scar running down the left side of his face. A toothy grin spread across his face as he looked down at Tim. "Well… look who we have here."

That was all he heard before everything went black and he felt his form shift back into that of a human. McGee was almost certain, he was going to die.

...TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are, trapped with only our thoughts and memories. And...mirrors.

McGee remembers being dragged. He remembers the smell of the smoke wafting up his nostrils and burning the inside of them. The scent of freshly cut parsley mixing in and making it nearly impossible to decipher where he could be by scent alone. Then there was the truck, the distinct sound of a diesel engine starting up for the first time in a long time, the yelling and screaming only followed. Being tossed harshly onto hard metal until meeting cold unforgiving concrete. A nail meeting his back and ripping his jacket open in the process. He'd nearly been coherent at the time and the pain made it all the more within his power to come around. That is until his nose met the smell of rotting flesh and aftershave. Blearily opening his eyes before chloroform overwhelms him. Darkness fell again.

For a while, it was only that, the blackness. Until he remembers running again. Not on four legs, but two, unlike some of his dreams. The sweetness of flowers, wet grass sticking to his feet as he rushes to a hill he doesn't remember, morning dew covering him and the early, cool morning leaking into his very soul. He feels odd, feeble almost, but he feels human and he feels young. He knows this dream already. Tim's had the same one time and time again. If he turns around it'll end the same way. Instead, if only for a moment or two, he stares out there at the rising sun, no chain-link fence obstructing the view, only beautiful, green trees framing its glory. He ignores the growling a little longer.

Each time he's here it seems odder than the last, or perhaps more serene. At one point he might have called it his happy place, but the growling grows stronger. McGee can never quite tell how old he is here, or even where he is in reality, but he guesses around four or five. Every time, he wonders how accurate it is as well. It's the day he was born after all. In a sense, he supposes. The day he died would be more accurate.

The snarls are louder and he feels he has to turn now, face his maker. When he looks there's an animal there, or something akin to it. The beast's dark complexion ruining the soft, green scenery around it, rotting the world with its very presence. It staggers, and it sways, moving like a drunken man with nothing in his head. But there is something in this thing's head. Yellowed teeth coated in plaque snap as foamy white drool falls from its mouth. Greying, aged muzzle opens and it howls. It's broken and dying, but most of all its hungry.

Tim's still and the crunch of bones no longer hurt.

…

He's awoken by the cold of metal against his throat and when he opens his eyes there's an oddity there. A gangly thing that could perhaps be considered human looking at him, suddenly the coldness is gone.

The man stands there with a displeased look on his face and a pout on his lips. Swinging the machete back and forth in front of him. He isn't the Alpha in fact he would assume that this is his lackey. The one called 'Quickstrike', if he remembers correctly.

He's ugly, to say the least. His face is so thin he looks rather ill not to mention the paleness to him that adds to the effect. It also doesn't help that his nose is larger than the majority of his face and to add to that, recently broken and hooked. As he moves further into the light Tim takes note of the sunken in eyes and the bruised bits underneath them, he looks a bit like a drug addict, but he doesn't shake like one. The way he holds the weapon suggesting a steadier demeanor but he grips it like a man with a fiery temper.

"So… you're the lycan bitch that fucked me up." His voice is so gravelly that he's not quite sure if the distain in it was intentional or not. But he's certain that the yellow vile the gangly animal calls 'saliva' was not intentional at all. Either way, he finds the wording rather amusing.

Though, he does know what this skinny creature is talking about. Under his peppered, black, greasy hair he can see where his own teeth skimmed and cut open a thin slit. McGee can also see the bruising where he was thrown around a bit and the bite marks are showing quite nicely with his pale skin. Almost like they were painted on a canvas. Albeit a human formed one but a white canvas none the less.

"I honestly think I'd like to give you a taste of this shit but Pops says he wants you two intact." Quickstrike stops swinging the machete back and forth, taking the handle into his bony hands. McGee feels his heart sink.

"But he didn't say how intact he wanted you and believe me when I say, I have a habit of misunderstanding things." The bag of bones doesn't even smile when he raises the machete and slashes down. Quite frankly, it's more disturbing than an evil smile would have been.

Even then, Tim can't quite bring himself to assess that as he feels sharp, hot pain race through his chest and he's all too distracted when the prick leaves. Hissing and growling in pain as the blood runs down his skin and clothes. Fat droplets hitting the floor and pooling together like frightened children. He won't die… but it will hurt and it will bleed. It doesn't help when he realizes that Tony is beginning to stir. Gritting his teeth so hard he feels them nearly breaking Tim manages to keep himself somewhat together as Tony comes to. Sucking in a breathe, he bears with reality, he lets his head lull, watching the blood pool.

He can see Tony wince and give a groan, "Ooooh, agh! Ow! Gah, that hurts worse than any hangover I've had in a while." Dinozzo lifts his head and squints, trying to get a good look at his surroundings before noticing McGee.

Which is kind of hard when they're placed so Tony is facing McGee tied up in a chair and the same perspective to Tim. But that isn't what intrigues the Italian. What perks his interest is all the mirrors surrounding them. Highlighting everything around them and they themselves. Even the door, or what he would assume is the door is covered in mirrors. It's a little creepy if anything. But then, most torture is creepy is it not?

Tony allows himself that much of a distraction before turning his attention to Timothy. Noting that, yes, the Probey has more red to him than what he remembers and it's dripping all over the already stained cement. A million things race through his mind, but he manages to keep his calm for the sake of it. Panic setting in isn't what he needs right now. Or really, ever, even if he can feel his heartbeat all the way up into his ears he won't let the panic set in. Tony, swallowing a lump that has managed to form in his throat, steadies his breathing. He's been doing this far longer than he'd like to admit, now's not the time to choke up. He tries to keep everything light. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting this when I walked into that motel."

It's hard to hear but McGee picks up on the shakiness of his voice and how much it cracks. Even though it's at the slightest, the minor break down isn't going unnoticed. "Can't say I was either." It's all he can really find to respond with.

The older man hums in agreement, "So, why're they keeping us here basking in all," The Italian rolls his head around, "…this?"

"Probably since we know about Maurice… that depends though," McGee manages to lift his head, "how much did you see?"

He stares blankly for a moment, "Of what?"

"What do you remember before you blacked out?"

Dinozzo laughs, "The guy at the motel freaking out and then… why?" The way his tone changes sounds all too familiar.

"Do you remember when he started to change? Into that thing?"

"…that wasn't a dream then."

"…no."

"…you're not screwing with me are you McGee?" Not a single trace of humor lingering in his voice.

"No," Tim says again, matching it in tone.

There's a pause as Tony takes all of it in. McGee is suddenly aware how far forward Tony is leaning in his chair until he slams his back into it. "Shit, Tim… holy shit… and they want us to tell them something that we just stumbled upon!"

It feels a little unnatural to hear Dinozzo curse but the situation calls for it. He's probably questioning everything he knows and everything he's been told. It would probably be a shock if you hadn't grown up into it.

Tony gives a huff, hitting his back against the chair again. "They're probably not going to let us live either. Not after what we saw…"

McGee, feeling decently distracted, finds himself about to correct the man before he realizes Tony's staring at something beyond him. It only takes him a couple moments to realize what has grabbed his companion's attention. His jacket and shirt had been ripped open in the back when they threw him in here. Leaving the bites on his back… that haven't healed yet if at all, exposed. He can already see the questions flying through the man's mind. Unfortunately, he finds that he can't tell if Tony's scared because he thinks that the man before him is going to become one of them or because he's figured out that he has been one of them this entire time.

Dinozzo keeps a surprisingly steady voice when addressing him, "Do you think those stories are true? About when you're bitten you can turn into… one of… them?"

Tim finds himself torn between telling Tony that they won't affect him because he's one of them or flat out lying. Saying he doesn't believe they are true. Either way, he finds himself debating the odds and he finds… he can't quite bring himself to trust Tony with one of his darkest secrets. "I don't think so." Tim can already feel the sting in his chest; it hurts more than the flesh wound. I'm so sorry.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I'm alive. Wow! I'm sure you have a couple questions if you've read this over FFnet. Well, you see, if you've read any stories on Bunny's account you may have gotten the hint that I wrote the thing and then posted it on her account a little absent-mindedly (she'll usually post a couple of her stories through my laptop). Considering it got such a reaction I decided just to post from there. Now that I have an AO3 account I'll post from her as well. Thank for you time. Thank you for being patient.


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